


Knock Before Entering

by Whatevergirl



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Kink Meme, M/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-04
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-12-07 11:59:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/748269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whatevergirl/pseuds/Whatevergirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the prompt: In which Cosette is all too mortifyingly aware of the activities her two dear fathers get up to because they are the sort of parents that can't stop sneaking an intimate moment between themselves when they think no one's looking... and they always seem to forget that doors have locks for a reason. (Makinghugospin, Round 4, Page 1)</p><p>Modern AU</p><p>5 intimate moments Cosette saw because she forgot to knock, and 1 where she remembered</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Javert's rank is Commandant because it is the closest I could find to Inspector and it works for something later on.

\------

It had been Javert who had discovered her, in a raid on the inn. The young girl was the only child of a woman named Fantine. The woman had spent many years searching for her child, which despite the many ransom notes, had not been successful.

Fantine's fiancé, Felix, had left, taking a large portion of what little money she had with him. The woman had taken Cosette and headed for a new home in Montreuil sur Mer. On the road, they had stopped in a small cafe. The child had been just two years old, a few weeks shy of her third birthday. Cosette had gone missing.

Reluctantly, Fantine had carried on to her new home, a small apartment with 3 rooms, a kitchenette and a bathroom. It was not much, and with the few toys untouched and unopened in boxes, it felt like even less.

Fantine had started to receive ransom letters from unnamed person. Despite her desperate searching, and the searching of the police, nothing had turned up.

It was several years later, while Fantine was sick in the hospital, having won the attention of the mayor of the small town, that Commandant Javert had led a drugs raid on a grungy inn. During their hunt, Javert had discovered a young girl hiding in a cupboard, cramped into the tiny space.

He had taken her with him, first to the ambulance, to be checked over, then in his car back to the town with him. Once there, the social services had begun their search for who she was. She had given them her name, Cosette, and her age, seven years. She had been able to name the other children the services had taken from the couple whom ran the inn, and she had identified all 5 as the couple's children.

She had informed them her mother was called Fantine, and she paid the Thénardiers to look after her. Commandant Javert had frowned at that, the name striking a chord in his memory...

It was not until he had returned home that evening, having left Cosette in the care of the services, that it had occurred to him. His partner, Jean Madeleine, often visited a woman named Fantine in the hospital, believing himself responsible for her position. He had asked the man, and his partner had confirmed this.

The next day, he had returned with this information. The procedure to find the woman had been simple, and a meeting was set up. However, when the woman from social services had gone to take Cosette away to see her mother, she had started to cry.

Cosette had wanted to remain with Javert, feeling herself safe in his presence. Javert had been most confused at this idea, the only one who ever actually liked to see him was Jean, and this was only many years after they had met.

He had consented to take her to the hospital though, and there the dying mother had recognised him as the Commandant Javert the mayor so often spoke of. She had requested he look after her daughter, going so far as to get social services to send over paper work.

When the woman had died, several weeks later, Cosette was already living with Javert and Jean. They received frequent visits from officials, but were overall deemed fit guardians who would be subject to randomised visits to ensure they were doing their duty to the child.

The young girl had been sad, to lose the one parent she had had. However, having not known her mother for five years, having been told often the woman sent money to avoid having to actually see her, she was saddened by her mother's death, but not completely devastated.

She had felt some guilt over this, but she had been happy to have proper parents who loved her, who loved each other and earned an honest living. Her Papa took her and her Father to church every Sunday, and he read her a story every night before bed. Her Father did all the cooking, and he joked with her that Papa was not allowed to touch the oven in case he burnt the house down.

She was informed that she had chores to do, and would receive punishment if she did not follow it. Nothing too harsh, merely sent to her room, or no toys for a set period of time, or no television. She was happy to try, happy to obey the rules they gave her, as they made her far happier than the rules the Thénardiers had given her. She received explanations for rules if she did not understand, and rewards when she did well.

She had a variety of rules; she could help with preparing food, but was not allowed to use the oven. She put any dishes she used by the sink. She tidied her room before bed. She would do homework to the best f her ability when she started school. She knocked on her parents' door and waited till they answered after going to bed.

After being with her new parents for a few weeks, she broke the last rule. It was not on purpose, but she had had a nightmare. She had still been living at the inn, and Éponine had been mocking her for thinking she had escaped with a smile on her face.

She had jumped out of her bed, tears falling down her face and into the room her Father and Papa slept in. They were lying in their bed, with the lights off, but in the thin strip of light that came from the hallway, she could see that they were undressed. Father was lying on his back with his legs wrapped around Papa's legs. Neither were wearing their shirts, and Papa did not have his pyjama bottoms on either.

"Cosette!" yelped Father, pushing Papa to the side.

Her Papa gasped, and pulled the blankets up.

"Cosette? What are you- What did we say about knocking?"

"What are you doing?"

Her parents froze at that and stared at her.

"Well, my child. When two people love each other-" Began Papa.

"Shall we get some hot chocolate?" Asked Father, interrupting the other as he stood up. "Why are you out of bed?"

They set off downstairs to get a drink, leaving her Papa in bed, flushed a bright red.


	2. Chapter 2

Cosette learned quickly that her parents were very happy together, as they often sat cuddled together.

Her Father liked to pretend he was unmoveable and stern, but it was often her Papa who had to discipline her and since Father let her get away with most things. She enjoyed watching Father cook, and reading stories with Papa. She felt loved, and it made her happy.

Papa was a happy man, and the mayor of the town. She attended a good school, and had the regular drama of any young girl. 

When Cosette was 10, she once again walked in on her parents. She learned that it was normal to see them cuddled up together on the couch, to kiss over a hot drink, or to embrace tightly after a long day of work. Father was never in when she got up, he left for work before she even woke up, so it was Papa who took her into school. 

He smiled and chatted to all the parents dropping off their children, and Cosette brought a book in to read during play time. She was aware that Papa worried that she did not talk with the others, that she preferred to read than run around and play. She was sure she would gain friends in her own time, as surely everyone did. However, it was not the most important thing, and Father did not mind if she did not want to talk to any of the other children.

She spent time learning right from wrong, learning not to steal, or lie; not to push, or bully others. She learnt that it was ok to joke about with other people, but only if you were close and they would not be insulted. She found out that if you did joke about something, and it upset anyone, you apologised.

While the incident of walking in on her parents the first time did not stick in her mind, she got used to finding Papa pinning Father against the wall and kissing him. Apparently, Father enjoying her Papa picking him up and carrying him just as much she did.

Father often played games with her, usually board games. The one she enjoyed playing the most was Risk. They had long games of that, and Father enjoyed making her think carefully about things, about where to go and what to do. They often left their games across the living room floor over night, continuing their games over more than one day.

Papa enjoyed much more simple games, like Snakes and Ladders, or Cluedo, and on some occasions, even Monopoly. He preferred to read stories with her, she had a whole collection of Children’s Bible Stories, and Noah’s Ark was her favourite. She wanted a pet, though their landlord did not allow them to have one.

The next time she forgot to knock before going into her parents it was actually evening. She had only just finished her story and turned the lights out half an hour earlier, but she did not feel well. She stumbled to her feet and stood by her bedroom door, shouting for her Father.

He did not come.

Perhaps they were still downstairs, watching telly. She staggered down and through the small hall, into the living room. The lights were out. She turned and went into the back room that doubled as their dining room, leading through into the kitchen. Neither of her parents were in there either. She sat down on the cooled tile surface of the kitchen floor for a moment, taking deep breaths to try avoid being sick. 

She would not cry. She pushed herself up, and stumbled back to the stairs, crawling slowly back up. She glanced at the bathroom door, beside the small spare room. She wanted Father more than she wanted to vomit.

She pulled herself up and stumbled down the landing towards her parents’ room.

Inside, Papa was sat against the headboards, wearing just his underwear, as he usually did in their room. Father was sat in his lap, and they were kissing. Neither noticed her.

“Father...” She cried out softly. She waited by the door, realising she had not knocked. Father did not stop. Papa glanced her way, and paused.

“My love, we must stop.” He whispered.

“Jean...” whined Father.

“Cosette is here.”

Her Father stopped, and turned to look at her.

“Cosette, you did not knock.”

“Father...” she said softly, sinking to the ground. He stood up and pulled his pyjama bottoms up over his underwear.

He crouched down and lifted her chin up.

“What is wrong, Cosette?”

“I don’t feel very well...” She softly whined. He pressed a hand to her forehead.

“You are a little warm. Come here.” She was wrapped up in the strong, warm arms of her father, and she already felt better.

He carried her back to her room and lay her down in bed. She grasped weakly at his bare skin. 

“Don’t go.” She whispered. She liked to be in his arms when she felt unwell. This was a safe smell; she’d sniffed it in when he had first helped her out the Thénardiers’ cupboard, and she had buried her face into his uniform shirt.

He smiled gently, though his eyebrows did not do their usual thing. They remain in the same position, making him look worried. 

Father was here though, and she smiled back at him, which softened his features slightly.

Papa came into the room, now wearing his pyjamas too. He smiled at her. 

“How are you doing?” He asked.

“Ok.” She said quietly. 

Papa smiled at her, and came over to kiss her head. “I hope you feel better soon.” She watched as Papa tilted Father’s head up and kissed his mouth. They smiled at each other, and Papa left.

“Will you sing?” She hoped he would. He did not sing very much, only when she was ill and for birthdays. 

“Do you really want me to?”

“Yes, please?”

“You won’t go screaming from the room?”

She laughed, and shook her head. He smoothed some stands of hair out of her face, kissed her forehead, and sang softly to her.

She did not understand the words he was singing, but he always said it was what his Mother used to sing to him when he was little.

She liked it. It made her feel a part of the family.


	3. Chapter 3

At the age of thirteen, Cosette was doing very well as a fussy teenager. She did not like doing homework anymore, and it was pointless anyway. She did not argue with the teachers, but preferred to sit at the front of the classroom and draw pictures in the back of her exercise books; after all, the disruptive pupils always sat at the back of the class, and that is where the teachers focussed their attentions. 

She did not exactly have any friends, no one she spoke to and chattered about anything with during break times. While the other girls hung out in their little groups of geeks, or populars, or sporty girls... Cosette sat by herself, at the back of the school yard, on the little bit of grass there was. She always had her book out, and enjoyed pouring over it. She was currently making her ways through the Bronte sisters’ works. 

Her Papa very much approved of her reading, and the two could spend a long time in the living room, with no telly on, just curled up with a book. Father did not really enjoy reading, though he occasionally forced himself to try it.

In his spare time, he usually just curled up into Papa’s arms and slept, regardless of where they were. They still played Risk though, and while it still lasted a long time, she had learned how to play without spending half an hour thinking over her moves. He also spent time at the dining table, doing crosswords.

He often left them out on a morning for her to finish, as he still went to work before she got up. Papa said he was supposed to have more time off than he did but Father had never really known what to do with time off.

They had taken several holidays together, twice to Chamonix to go skiing, and once to Espace Diamant. She very much enjoyed skiing, as did Father. Papa seemed to enjoy relaxing in the sun more, and she enjoyed teasing him about it.

Papa was the kindest person she knew. He could never watch Téléthon without giving away money. He was bad enough when it came to seeing people in the street, trying to sell stuff. They would tell him they had a sick family member, were trying to save up for transportation to a hospital, or for a procedure, and her Papa had to help out. He was worse with children. He did not quite cry, but he got very emotional at the idea that he was better off than some poor child.

It was likely they would not have a home to live in if Father did not rein him in.  
Father was very different in his approach to people, far more sensible. He would look at people and often seemed suspicious of them. He told her to never buy things off people in the streets. From a proper market stall, it was fine. However, if it was just from someone in a street, there was a good chance it had been stolen. He was never won over by Papa’s cries of “But look at them...”

She felt this was far more sensible. It was certainly not fair that she had chores to do, and homework to do if she wanted any pocket money. These people sat around and cried all day, and still her Papa gave them money. 

Papa had told her she could sleep outside with no roof over her head if she liked, and then he would give her what he gave them. She learned not to complain where he could hear her.

Her Father was the one she went to when something was wrong. He was always happy to help with her homework (unless it was Religious Studies, then he left it to Papa), he never told her the answers, unfortunately. But he always helped her to work them out.

He was the one she went to when she had started her period. She had panicked for about ten minutes upstairs over what to do, that morning, but then she had taken a deep breath, stuff toilet paper in her underwear and went to see Father. He went a funny colour, but simply told her the toilet paper was fine, and he would go to the shops and pick her up some stuff while she had her breakfast.

He must have said something to Papa who was at the bottom of their stairs as he pulled his boots on though. Papa went a very pale colour and hurried back upstairs. Upon reflection, very amusing, but at the time, she was just relieved she could eat her breakfast without looking either of them in the eye.

She spent many days wishing she had a mobile phone though. She did not really have anyone but her parents to put in it, but that was really not the point. Everyone at school had one, and while she was pretty sure no one actually hated her, she was definitely the odd one out for being unable to text anyone.

She would be able to text Father when she got up on a morning, as she knew Papa did. He often had his phone with him as they ate breakfast together, and had a tendency to grin stupidly at it. He would occasionally pass little messages on to her, but she wanted to be receiving them in the first place. Father had said that maybe for her 14th birthday, she might be allowed one.

It was only because father watched too many documentaries and apparently believed that phones could mess with brain development when someone was still growing; it was a stupid idea and kind of void as there were so many mobile phones around anyway.

She hurried home one afternoon, with a new board game clutched in her arms. The school librarian had brought it in for her; she was allowed to borrow it for a while! It was called ‘World in Flames’. She had never played it before, but it was set in World War 2. It had five maps; and you had different counters for your army, your naval troops, the air force and various other groups. 

Father was off today, having been ordered to put in a few days holiday, so she was going to show it to him. She unlocked the door, kicked off her shoes and dropped it on the table. She ran straight up stairs, slinging her bag into her room on the way as she yelled to her Father that she wanted to show him something.

She banged straight into the room, and froze.

“Eww!!” she wailed.

She did not want to see her parents in bed together. Ever. Period! She spun out the room and hurried away, running downstairs while wondering how to get rid of the image of her Father of his back, legs around Papa’s waist, with both of them naked and moving together out her mind.

“Eurgh! I think I need to bleach my brain or something...” She grumbled. “They have a bloody lock on that door, why don’t they use it?”


	4. Chapter 4

By fifteen, Cosette was a beautiful girl with long blonde hair and a dazzling smile. She was, of course, still a teenager, and therefore convinced her hair was boring; her smile awkward and her face covered in spots, but otherwise, she was growing up to be a wonderful person.

She had a mobile phone. This was the best improvement over the past few years that she could remember. Oh, she had new games to play and she had even been allowed a desktop computer, which sat in a corner of the dining room, for whenever she wanted to go on it. However, the mobile phone was great.

She had received a basic one for her 14th birthday and she had been thrilled. It had had snake on it, and she could text and phone her parents. She enjoyed texting her Father during the day, which was the best thing to do with it. 

Father still worked long hours, he did twelve hours shifts, and his brain had a tendency to switch off as soon as he came in. During the day, though. She got more of a response out of him. He still enjoyed laughing and joking with her, but in text format, he seemed to have lost the last of his reserves.

She did rather understand, because it was easier to send a text when something was wrong, than stand in front of him and say the words.

Papa had stepped down from being mayor a few months ago, saying he wanted to spend more time at home, and focussing on other things. He said it was a younger man’s job now, but Cosette couldn’t see her Papa as an old man, no matter how she looked at him. He was in his late fifties, but despite his greying hair and the few wrinkles around his eyes, he was her Papa, and she simply could not imagine him as old.

She could not view her Father as old either, though most of his hair was silver now. He was in his mid forties, but he claimed it was a stressful job that had turned his hair grey. Papa always laughed and said it was because he did not know how to relax that the party went to his hair instead.

His job had been split now; part time on the streets, but most of his time in the academy. He was now actually running it, rather than just as a sort of second in command. She had asked her Papa about it, having never really wondered what he had done before.

Apparently, he had been boosted to the top of the chain of command in a prison at a young age, and then when he had moved to proper policing work, for an incident her Papa scowled at and refused to discuss, he had been allowed to keep his rank.

She had asked Father about it as well, but he always just shook his head and told her not to ask. 

At school, they were supposed to be thinking about what job they wanted to go into. Her Papa wanted her to go be some kind of scientist; he seemed to believe scraping As in her science meant she could do this. She had tried to tell him it was not going to happen, that she wanted a job where she was not taxing her brain all the time, but he was a little dense about things sometimes.

She did not know what Father thought she should do. He told her to do something she could put her all into, but she had not yet decided what that was. She had discovered recently that she was good at sports, and while she still did not really have any friends, she was content to focus her attentions on being able to run faster. Running allowed her mind to wander anyway, and she thought about all sorts of stuff while she did so.

She had a vague idea about being an artist when she got older, about painting wonderful pictures, and people coming from all around to see them. However, her favourite thing to paint was the night sky, as she shared Father’s interest in astronomy.

While nebulas and planets looked very cool when you painted them, she did not enjoy real life paintings, or the abstract ideas the art teacher wanted them to draw. She would continue painting in her free time, the spare room was taken over with her supplies, but it would never be a career.

She would like to be a police officer, really. She always admired her Father for being able to go out, do his job, and save people. Her memories of her early life may have faded, but she still remembered how amazing it had been to see that stern face open the door and bring her out. She remembered that wonderful safe smell that was now an everyday thing to her.

She was not sure if her Papa would like the idea, he worried so much about Father in his job anyway, could he cope with two of them working this line? She contemplated it as she walked home, trying to imagine herself in the smart uniform of one her Father’s police officers. 

She could arrest the irritating lads who sat behind her in Biology; they were always talking about how they took drugs. She was tempted to tell her Father about them, but she knew they were often more focussed on taking out the dealers than a couple of young idiots.

As she walked down an alley, a shortcut to their apartment, she saw a young woman leaning against the wall. She was thin, really thin, with dark lanky hair and a blank look in her eyes. Cosette walked against the wall, trying to keep as much distance as possible. Her Papa may insist on giving to poor people, but she was alone here.

“Hey, don’t suppose you have any Euros to spare, huh?”

She ignored the girl, keeping her head down.

“Hey, come on. I just need some help to pay for dinner. I have three brothers and a sister to pay for.” 

“Sorry, I don’t have anything.” She muttered, continuing quickly.

“Hey... Have I seen you before? I am sure I have.” The woman stopped in front of Cosette, and the blonde looked up.

The person before her was much younger than she had realised, probably about 14 or 15. Her eyes looked old and tired though. She did have something familiar about her, but Cosette wasn’t sure...

“Cosette? No way... All grown up, huh?”

“I don’t know you.” She whispered, and began to hurry.

“Not since you got whisked away, you wouldn’t. I’m Éponine. We were young girls together...” there was a sigh, but Cosette did not stop.

“Look what’s become of me...” It was said softly, but Cosette did not want to see. The thought that this girl was a Thénardier; that she was now so low... it made her nauseous.

Cosette hurried inside, and took a deep breath. She tried to push the memories back, to forget them again. Perhaps a cup of tea helped.

She boiled the kettle, poured a cup, and went upstairs to see if Father was around. She wondered if he knew what actually happened to the Thénardiers after she was taken away.

She went into their room, rolled her eyes in exasperation and left. She’d ask later. They were having sex again.


	5. Chapter 5

By eighteen, Cosette was ready to enter into the academy. She had undergone rigorous testing and managed to become a successful candidate. She had spent time with her Father, carefully studying current affairs and security to pass the required examinations. They often spent evenings watching the various news channels and then discussing the events.

She was pretty sure this upset Papa, but he did not say anything. He always smiled and encouraged her whenever she mentioned it; he was even paying for extra classes in English, so that she would have no problems in passing the foreign language exam. She had learnt to tell the difference between something that really pleased him, and something he was worried about and covering with a smile a long time ago.

She kept up running, and had now started to go to the gym. She had a slim, willowy figure, but she would not be let down by this. She would pass the physical exam.

She now spent time curled up watching telly in her spare time, next to her parents who still cuddled up with each other whenever possible. She could not be bothered to pick up a book when she finished studying for the evening.

She had started spending time at the pub though; she was trying to get herself used to the atmosphere. Father had mentioned once it would be a good idea, that he had received a great shock when he started as a prison guard and had to encounter so many roughed people whom argued and shouted crude things often and at anyone. 

She was aware that the pub was not the roughest around, but Papa would likely have a heart attack if she went anywhere worse on her own. It was one afternoon, sat by herself in the pub that she saw him. He was handsome, with freckles and the loveliest eyes she had ever seen.

She stared, and then flushed when he looked her way, but she held his gaze for a long moment. She sat, looking shyly down at her drink, desperately hoping he would come over her way. He stood, picking his drink up. She tried to keep her eyes in front of her, to not stare at him, her heart fluttering quickly. Another girl came over and blocked him, twirling long black hair in between her fingers. 

Cosette frowned, as he gave her one more look, before focussing on the skinny woman in front of him. She huffed quietly, trying not to be angry as she did not even know him.

She was about to down her drink and leave when a commotion caught her eye. There was shouting and a young man with curly blonde hair stood up. He was bickering angrily with several men, and the men were starting to push and shove. His friends stood up to push back. It started to get even more violent, and Cosette pulled out her mobile phone, planning to text her Father. 

It was then armed police men came rushing in, shouting about a police raid. She watched as the men continued to argue, and two of the officers broke off to split them up. Several of the officers began ushering people back out to the officers that would be stood outside.

She was one of the last to leave, but she recognised Father when he grinned at her. One of the owners came down the stairs with a shotgun in his hands though, and her Father turned around to push her down.

She held back a scream when he let out a shot, and Father yelped and fell forwards.

“Father!” she gasped, and fell to her knees beside him. 

“Medic!” Came the shout from a young officer, and she watched as blood began to pour from Father’s shoulder.

“Must have sh- shot under... shot under my vest.” His face was white when she pulled off his helmet. He gripped her hand.

She watched as the owner was led outside in cuffs. She watched as her Father’s top was stripped off. She watched his chest heave as blood poured down his shoulder.

“Don’t move your arm.” The medic grabbed a pad and began to press down on it. “Hold this.” He said softly to Cosette.

The medic worked quickly and efficiently, and then helped her Father up.

“I want you to go to the hospital and get an x-ray done. The shot came in at a funny angle, and you need that checked out and cleaned up properly.”

She wrapped her arms around him, breathing in deeply that smell of home. He held her awkwardly, and then backed away.

“Let’s go.” He said softly. “Don’t ring your Papa until we’ve gotten sorted. He’ll just worry.”

As they walked back over to the police, Cosette saw the handsome man stood nearby. He was beside the curly haired man and his friends, but he smiled at her as she walked away with her Father. She sighed, wishing she could talk to him. She could see the back of that skinny girl again. 

At the hospital, she was separated from her Father. It wasn’t until several hours later that he was released. 

“Hey.”

“Father.” She flew over to him, wrapping her arms tightly around him. “How are you?”

“Oh, just wonderful.” He gave her a large grin, and she struggled to keep the responding one off her face.

“They gave you some good stuff, huh?”

“Mmm hmmm...” 

She pressed a kiss to his cheek and led him outside to catch a taxi home.

Papa did freak out when he got home from work. He did not deal well with anyone getting hurt, and she was aware he would now spend the rest of his time clamped around Father. He was a bit of an octopus when he worried.

“Jean, I am fine.” Her Father was trying to get their dinner cooked, but her Papa had decided he would help. “Cosette? Either get in here and help, or remove him, please.”

She laughed, and pushed Papa out of the kitchen. Her smile fell when she noticed the pinched look on her Father’s features.

“Go. You sit down, or go to bed, or something. I’ll cook and give you a shout when I am done.”

The two disappeared off upstairs, and she continued with chopping vegetables and adding them to the pan. She hummed quietly, trying to distract herself from her concern, though it was not terribly effective. Her stomach was churning and her eyes were blurring with tears.

She quickly finished off the chicken, covering it with the sauce and putting the dish in the oven for whenever they got around to eating.

“Papa?” She called up the stairs. “Father?”

She went up to their room. Perhaps they were sleeping. 

Naturally, they weren’t. She rolled her eyes.

“Stop it. Dinner is ready. You are high on drugs, evident by the grin you have on your face and you will drown in guilt later on. Put him down and come eat your food.”

She turned and walked back out the room.

“Knock. Remember to knock. No one should see their parents like that.”


	6. Chapter 6

It had been several months later that Cosette saw the boy again. He was hanging around outside their apartment, and smiled widely when he saw her. 

“Oh, you look as wonderful as I remember.” He breathed, stepping aside to allow her onto the pavement as she walked outside the apartment. She smiled shyly when she heard this, looking up at him through her eye lashes.

“Umm... Hi.” She took a step closer to him, not really sure of what to say.

“Oh, I’m doing this wrong. I do not even know your name...” He laughed awkwardly, but Cosette simply found it rather endearing. “Won’t you say? Will you tell?”

“No fear, no regret.” She whispered, thinking of her parents, who told her they had spent many years around each other before they got together. She would not wait so long. She nodded her head at him.

“My name is Marius Pontmercy.”

“And mine’s Cosette.” She smiled at him, her heart fluttered rapidly.

“Cosette, I don’t know what to say.”

“Then say nothing.”

The soft sad cry of a girl further down the street caught her attention. It was the dark haired girl, standing and staring at them. Éponine? She was not sure. It looked like her, still too thin and gaunt. She was... not very clean, like she could use a good shower, some new clothes and a good meal. She turned and walked away.

“This is... This feels like a dream. I cannot quite believe you are here.”

“Well, I’m awake.” She smiled. 

She stared into his eyes for another long moment, before glancing at her watch. “Oh no. I have to go.”

“Can I see you again?” Marius asked, reaching out to hold her hand.

“Yes, yes.” She smiled, and shouldered her bag. She grasped his hand, turned it over and scribbled her number onto the back of it. “I’ll be late for class if I don’t go.”

He nodded, staring at her with soft eyes. She smiled, but turned and hurried to the bus stop.

She tried to tell her parents about Marius, but she was not entirely sure how to go about it. Father was still frustrated with being only allowed to do work in the academy. His arm was not healed, having cracked the joint in his shoulder when the shot went off, and chipped some of the bone. He was still in a lot of pain, but was refusing to take anything stronger than paracetamol because he did not want to be stuck at home constantly. Even though he was in pain, he was still allowed to teach his classes because he wasn’t loopy.

Cosette had to admit, she kind of missed him on the drugs. He had stumbled about in an odd haze, grinning happily at her. He also managed what Cosette had viewed as impossible, and spent even more time plastered to Papa’s side. Every time she came into a room, her Father was sat in his lap, kissing his neck or snuggling in.

It was rather sweet, even though she had not really wanted to see them quite so close outside their bedroom. 

He had also made some odd comments, and had had one evening where he insisted on calling Papa ‘Valjean’. It made her wonder where the name had come from. Was it a nickname? 

She had asked her Papa, but he had made odd noises and refused to say anything. She had decided to find out by asking Father. He was better at trusting in her affection. He was capable of admitting to mistakes, and still believing she would love him anyway. Papa sometimes seemed worried that she would lose interest in them, or stop loving them. Father told her it was an odd worry, but he knew otherwise.

She was sat beside her Father, drinking a cup of hot tea. Papa was still in his factory, filling in paperwork or whatever it was he did there. He was starting to think about retiring, she knew, and was trying to get everything in order to do so.

“Father... Why did you call Papa ‘Valjean’ all last Wednesday?”

“V-Valjean?”

“Yes.” He looked startled. 

“Please?”

“I... Your Papa would not like me to discuss this with you.”

“Please.”

Her Father sighed and scrubbed his face. He leaned back and stared at her.

“I... I met your Papa about 30 years ago. He was a thief and was in prison.” She gasped slightly, the idea of her giving parent, whom always helped out those less fortunate, the idea of him _stealing_. She nodded, but kept quiet.

“I was a prison guard there, and his name was Jean Valjean. He gave evidence against the main perpetrators in the crime. However, when he was released, he had to be put into witness protection.”

She nodded again, hanging onto every word he was saying.

“I... I did not meet him again till I was moved to Montreuil sur Mer. He was mayor, friendly and oh-so-familiar. I am afraid... I fell in love. I spent a long time working with your Papa, and we were fine. I was suspicious of him though. I did some digging, and found out who he was, but I was ordered to forget it.”

Her Father stood up, hurrying over to put his cup in the kitchen. He came back to her and stood by the doorframe, gazing down at her.

“I told your Papa, because I could not deny I felt for him. He forgave me in an instant.”

“That sounds like him.” He smiled, and nodded his head.

“I... He kissed me several days later, and I was gone.” He grinned lightly at her, and she smiled back at him. “About two years later, I arrested a woman for attacking a man in the street. Your Papa interrupted and took her to the hospital instead. She kept ranting about this child she had to pay for...”

He sat down beside her. “The woman was your mother. It was about three months later I found you. Do you remember going to see her?”

“I remember you found me in a cupboard. I remember you opening the door. I remember thinking you were safe. I was right.”

“Yes.” He shuffled over, and gave her one of his lovely awkward embraces. “She told us to adopt you. It was the most wonderful order I have ever been given.”

She smiled and kissed his cheek. “This is what he was panicking about?” He nodded, and she grinned. 

Cosette decided to go shower and have a decent think about what her Father had told her. The idea that her father was a thief and he had even been arrested was just so odd... she put her cup in the kitchen, kissed her Father’s cheek and went upstairs.

It was several days later when she told her parents to about Marius. Her Father told her to bring him over one evening, while her Papa spent time panicking over the idea that she was growing up. Neither had mentioned it yet to him that they had discussed their past. He really could only handle one thing at a time, after all.

She spent time finishing off her exams, thankfully passing them, and was accepted into the academy. It was in autumn when she finally decided to let her parents meet Marius. He was too taken with her now to be scared off by them.

They went home and her Papa and Father were not downstairs. She shouted, and received no reply. She frowned and went upstairs. Marius was concerned, and hurried past her. He checked her painting room, her bedroom and was about to go charging into their room when she snagged his collar.

“Hey, let’s not. Come here. I’ll show you my paintings.”

“But they might need help...”

“They won’t. I forgot to mention I was bringing you with me. It’s best if we just leave them alone in there.”

“But...”

“Marius, they will be having sex.”

Marius flushed a deep red, and stared at her.

“Come on, I’ll show you my paintings.”

Her boyfriend had better not be traumatised by the idea. It really was something he would have to get used to.


End file.
